Transfusion
by PietroMaximoff
Summary: The world has changed and she'd watched, for sixty-five years as everything familiar had shifted, inch by inch, until they were thrown into a future they weren't ready to face... after all, she was just a kid from Brooklyn, and her brother was a hero. Sarah Rogers had existed in the shadows for sixty-five years, It was about time that she walked into the light.


**Author's Note:** This story hit me like a brick wall and then refused to leave me until this had been written, spell-checked and plagued me with a never ending stream of idea's for future chapters. Whether I ever end up writing those chapters is another matter entirely. For the moment, the inspiration is there as is the ever pressing need to procrastinate on my exam preparation.

I (unfortunately) do not own anything associated with Captain America, Marvel and the like, however, in the future, if there's ever any jobs going, I'd be happy being an assistant to an assistant. Hey, you never know, I could end up being Darcy's assistant! (Thor reference, my bad) I hope that you enjoy this little twist on the Captain America story.

Thank you.

* * *

 **Transfusion**

The world has changed and she'd watched, for sixty-five years as everything familiar had shifted, inch by inch, until they were thrown into a future they weren't ready to face... after all, she was just a kid from Brooklyn, and her brother was a hero. Sarah Rogers had existed in the shadows for sixty-five years, It was about time that she walked into the light.

* * *

 **Prologue -** _Sixty-five Years, Eleven Months and Three Days_

* * *

Sixty-five years.

Sixty-five years, eleven months and three days.

Every day she'd searched- long after Howard had passed and everyone else had stopped looking, she continued to criss-cross the earth, searching, hoping, praying for the people she loved to be returned to her. She had watched as the hope dimmed in the eyes of others, extinguished by the years and every dead end lead that they'd followed.

For sixty-five years she'd watched as everything even remotely familiar changed, society shifting into something different, the world becoming darker and the family she'd chosen withering away until eventually, she was the only on left to look.

The hope she'd held had long since turned to desperation, but she refused to give up the search- the limits she'd been pushed to had proven her ability to survive… and if she'd survived? Then so should've he. It was this unwavering belief that had spurred the stoic Nick Fury to reinstate Unit dedicated to finding Steve Rogers.

Sixty-five years, eleven months and three days.

A Lieutenant had found him, frozen in an icy grave in the middle of the Arctic Circle, miraculously, wonderfully, beautifully alive. The emotions she'd suppressed in her increasingly desperate search had overwhelmed her in a wave, relief enveloping her as everything she'd sacrificed over the years suddenly seemed worth it. Steve was alive and she would _finally_ be able to bring him home.

The icy wind that prickled like tiny knife wounds barely crossed her mind, her eyes immediately drawn to the jagged wing protruding from an ice bank not fifty meters in front of her. She ignored the calls of warning from the Agents that had accompanied her- they had no idea how long she'd been waiting for this, what did she care for their protocol? The workers that surrounded the frozen aircraft seemed shocked by her urgency, even more so as she dropped into the hole they'd cut in the wreckage without the aid of a harness. Landing in a crouch with the ease born of years of practice, she rolled forward, absorbing the force from the drop as she rose to her feet smoothly.

Her eyes adjusted to the dim light quickly, and she stopped, the air leaving her lungs in a soft _whoosh_ as she recognised the crates stacked in a corner and the brand on the wall that mocked her even through the thick layer of ice. Even though HYDRA was long disbanded, plunged into ruin along with the plane she was standing in, her anger surged- for all intents and purposes, this was where Steve had died… and he had died surrounded by HYDRA paraphernalia. The injustice of it made her furious.

"Agent Rogers?"

She turned, the sound of Agent Coulson's voice echoing through the darkness from his vantage point at the top of the hole. Unsurprisingly, she'd taken an instant liking to Phil Coulson. His belief in a better world was a throwback to the beginning of S.H.I.E.L.D, when Peggy had stood at its masthead and the Commandos had stood by her side.

"Agent Rogers do you copy?"

"I copy."

Her eyes had adjusted to the lack of light easily, but the light of the torches from the Agents above her revealed something that she thought was lost. It was like a magnetic pull, she couldn't tear her eyes off the achingly familiar stripes of red and blue surrounding a perfectly pointed star. She couldn't get enough air into her lungs, her peripheral vision had all but vanished- it was like a physical blow to her psyche- she could feel the heat of an explosion on her cheek- smell the gunpowder in the air- hear the authoritive voice of her brother as he ordered them to attack.

It was the unexpected cool of ice beneath her knees that brought her back. Air returned to her lungs and her eyes snapped open, the edges of her vision clearing instantly. She'd long since become used to the split second of disorientation that accompanied a flashback to the war she'd never been slated to fight in, how could she not, when she'd experienced them for so long.

Ignoring the way the ice was seeping into her trousers, she hesitantly reached forward, her fingers shakily breaking apart the ice, freeing the shield that had become a legend. With light fingers she brushed away the snow covering it, and spun it in her hands, the familiar weight and sound of the vibranium offering her more comfort than she'd felt in forty years. She slipped the shield onto her back, the magnets on the straps locking it into place and stood smoothly, ignoring the discomfort of the wet trousers against her legs.

Sixty-five years, eleven months and three days it had taken her to find him… the grip on her heart had loosened, the desperation had lifted and hope had filled her veins once more but along with that hope came fear. This was the closest she'd been to him in over six decades and she couldn't bring herself to go any further. Her mind was churning with what ifs, the terror that he'd be different, that he wouldn't remember her… that he wouldn't be _alive._

She could hear the sounds of the S.H.I.E.L.D Agents that had been assigned to bring Captain America home rustling behind her, finally having breached the hull with the supplies they'd thought necessary to evacuate him. She took a deep breath- the last thing she needed was for the Level Nine agents assigned to this mission to see her in the midst of a flashback or with tears in her eyes. The clearance level needed to know of her existence was level Eight and up- the only exceptions were the Agents she'd brought into the agency and those were few and far in between- those that knew of her, knew her as a soldier and one with little emotion at that.

Straightening minutely, she pushed the fear that churned through her body to the back of her mind and stepped forward, her eyes darting across the intact windows of the _Valkyrie_ absently surprised that they'd survived the impact. Slowly, she turned letting the cool air fill her lungs in a deep inhale as she tried to get a grip on the panic that was threatening to take hold- her breath hitched as she scrambled forward, the fear evaporating in the air as she spotted him, still strapped to the pilot's chair.

She'd moved before her mind could catch up to her actions, on her knees beside the chair snapping the restraints that held him there, cracking the ice that seemed like it had become a part of him. Her fingers found his neck beneath the uniform she'd helped design, searching, hoping, praying for the sign she needed. With bated breath she shut her eyes and ten excruciating seconds later she was rewarded.

Sixty-five years, eleven months and three days.

"Agent Coulson. I found him. He's alive."

* * *

Her anger knew no bounds as she stormed into Director Fury's temporary office in the New York City S.H.I.E.L.D Headquarters. It had been fifteen days since Steve had been freed from his icy prison, and she'd been blocked form visiting him at every turn, the excuses she'd been given ranging from mildly annoying to stupendously infuriating. He was unconscious still, and it seemed as though he'd remain that way for a few weeks longer as the ice had slowed his heart rate so much that it was barely beating. She'd been separated from him for so long and the instant they'd touched down in New York he'd been whisked away to Medical and she'd been forbidden from getting within a hundred meters of him.

Ignoring the flustered secretary, she slammed the door open with far more force than necessary. "What the hell do you think you're playing at?"

"Agent Rogers. Please, come in."

"Don't play games with me Nicholas, I've been doing this longer than you've been alive."

Fury, for his part didn't look the slightest bit ruffled by her dramatic entrance, nor her threat as he simply pushed a button on his desk, the door automatically swinging shut with a dull thud as he steepled his fingers in front of him.

"Agent Rogers, take a seat."

She refused, slipping back into the Army regulated stance that Peggy had taught her when the older woman had taken her under her wing.

"I understand that you've had a difficult time of late-"

"Don't you dare patronise me. I've been a part of S.H.I.E.L.D since the beginning my clearance is just as high, if not higher than yours. You have no right whatsoever to block me from Steve and yet, that is exactly what you have done. Why?"

"Captain Rogers will need time to adjust-"

"Adjust!" She scoffed. "I am well aware of your plans for Steve, as well as why you continued the search for him after the World Security Council declared it a waste of money and Agents. The Avengers Initiative was scrapped along with the search for him, and yet you still believe that he will lead your merry little band of superheroes!"

"Need I remind you Agent Rogers, that you are on that roster of enhanced human beings that make up the Avengers Initiative? You know as well as I do that Captain America is still a symbol to the nation, having him lead the Avengers would give them a credibility that they would not have otherwise-"

"I don't care about your bloody pet project Fury! Even if my name is on the roster! I just want to see my brother!"

"I'm afraid that that's simply not possible right-"

She slammed her fist onto the table, unflinching as the stainless steal desk bent around her fist. "How dare you think you have the right to pull rank on me."

Fury stood, his one good eye blazing with righteous anger as he braced himself on the desk with both hands, looking every bit the warrior he was. "I am the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D, I have every right to pull rank on you _Agent_."

"I may be an Agent, _Director_ , but like I said earlier, I was an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D while you were nothing more than a twinkle in your mother's eye. The little respect I have left for you as Director, is what has kept me from him for this long but mark my words Fury, I will not be kept from him for any longer."

" _All Agents, Code 13. I repeat, all Agents, Code 13."_

Her heart leapt into her throat immediately as she exchanged a loaded glance with Fury, who had the grace to look slightly ashamed. Code thirteen was a long disused code for when Peggy ignored the directives of Medical and returned to her duties as Director- now, she knew, it was being reused… this time, in regards to Steve. The irony wasn't lost on her.

"What the hell did you do?"

Fury scowled, "We put him in a recovery room, had a baseball game playing, Agent Righetti-"

"Agent Righetti specialises in undercover operations- you sent her in because of her likeness to Peggy."

Lengthening their strides as they powered down the bustling corridor, Fury glared at her. "You're damn right I did. I sent her in because that's what she does, I put him in a forties recovery room because I thought it would be easier on his psyche if he was surrounded by something familiar."

" _I_ am familiar!" She growled, her temper flaring once more. "This would not have happened had you let me be at his side, where I damn well should have been."

"Agent Rogers-"

Ignoring his reprimand, she broke into a jog, cutting through the throng of Agents with ease that came through years of practice, following the accidental carnage that had been left behind by Steve. It was easy- not only did she have decades of practice tailing targets, she _knew_ Steve, on every single level, how could she not, when she'd grown up practically worshipping the ground he walked on. Picking up her pace, she fell into a flat out sprint, knowing that there was only one place that Steve would go this side of the river.

Times Square wasn't far from Headquarters, a couple of blocks, if that, and within a few minutes, she could see him, standing in the middle of the asphalt jungle, completely rocked by the world he'd woken up in. She slowed to a jog, her mind going into overdrive as she stopped, her heart constricting as she stared at his back. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe, so overcome with emotion as she realised that after sixty-five years, eleven months and eighteen days, she was about to be reunited with the only family that remained in her life.

"S-Steve." She choked out in a gasp.

He turned immediately, her voice the first familiar thing he'd heard since waking from the ice. "Sarah?"

Steve's voice was like a balm for her troubled soul, and suddenly she was in his arms, protected in a way that she hadn't been for so long, without ever comprehending that either of them had moved. Sarah clutched him like a lifeline, terrified that if she let him go, even for a second, he'd disappear and she'd wake up from a dream only to find that he'd died in the ice and she hadn't been there to save him.

Steve, knowing that something was so very wrong with the place he'd found himself in merely held her tighter, understanding in a way that only siblings do, that she wasn't okay. "It's okay little one, I got you." He pressed his face into her hair, the smell of vanilla and something that reminded him of the way the air smelt on a snowy day setting him at ease in this unfamiliar New York. "I got you." He repeated softly.

"At ease soldier!"

Steve slipped into a fighting stance instinctively, pushing her behind him without a second thought, his left arm coming up in a block that Sarah recognised as one he used with his shield on his arm. Sarah simply stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, glad that he relaxed beneath her grip as she scowled at Fury. As much of a solider as Steve was, he never followed the orders of someone unfamiliar- that was how you got yourself and your team killed.

Fury stepped forward, practically radiating an authority that immediately put Sarah on edge. The Director tended to forget that he had no power over her and it was only by her grace that had her conceding to _some_ of his orders. If she had her way, the stoic and secretive man wouldn't have any power to exercise over her brother either… it was safer to follow their own directives.

"Look, I'm sorry about that little show back there but we thought it best that we break it to you slowly."

Sarah scoffed. "I had no part in that show Fury, and if you'd consulted me like you were supposed to, we wouldn't be here right now."

Fury didn't even have the decency to look properly chastised. "Agent Rogers we can shelve this discussion for a later date."

Steve quirked an eyebrow as he angled himself toward her, still keeping one eye on the weapons pointed in their general direction. "Agent?" He asked, clearly confused. "What happened to Medic?"

"A lot has changed Steve."

His whole demeanour changed, as something seemed to click into place behind his eyes. "How long was I under?"

"You've been asleep Cap… for almost seventy years."

* * *

They ended up in Brooklyn.

Steve was honestly surprised by the pull his sister seemed to have in the shiny agency she apparently belonged to. All it had taken for him to be discharged officially was a raised eyebrow and a stony expression and the flustered doctors had fallen over themselves to provide her with the appropriate paperwork. The combat-ready agents that had passed them in the hall had acknowledged her with a respectful nod, while the paper pushing suit-clad Agent that processed his discharge had fumbled with the stapler, clearly nervous after what he guessed was her identification popped up on the… thing.

The Brooklyn Bridge was exactly how he remembered it, but it seemed like it was the only thing that hadn't changed. Everything from the buildings to the street signs had changed, it was discomforting… he'd known every alley like the back of his hand, and now, he could barely find the Brooklyn Bridge without Sarah's direction. He tucked his hands in the leather bomber jacket he'd been given, using the strained silence between them as an opportunity to examine the changes in his little sister.

She no longer favoured the cherry-red lipstick and intricately complicated hairstyles of the era they'd been born in, though he supposed that could be that it had simply gone out of fashion. Occasionally when she'd accompanied his Commandos on missions, she'd worn her long hair in a braid down her back, now it was cropped short, the wavy blonde strands kissing the top of her shoulders. The crystal-clear innocence that he loved to see in her eyes whenever he'd had a bad day was tarnished, replaced with a darkness that could only occur when a person had seen far too much. Even her walk had changed... the bounce that had earned her the nickname Tigger as a child was gone, in its place the walk of a warrior.

All of that however, paled in comparison to the one thing that hadn't escaped his notice. _Sarah hadn't_ _aged a day._ It shouldn't have been possible- he'd survived due to the serum in his blood, combined with the cryogenic affect of the ice, so how the _hell_ was it possible that she was standing beside him with not a single line on her face or mark on her skin. It didn't make sense.

He wasn't sure how to ask her, how to broach the subject. This version of his little sister was a complete stranger… he couldn't be sure how she'd react.

As if she'd read his mind she bumped his arm lightly. "I know you want to ask me something Steve. Your shoulders are tense, your jaw is locked and I can tell that you're worried."

"How can you still read me so well? It's been what? Seven decades?"

"Sixty-five years, eleven months and eighteen days." She muttered.

"You kept track?"

Sarah nodded, bracing herself against the railing of the bridge as she stared out over the water. "I wasn't the only one."

Steve's mind instantly went to Peggy, his heart clenching as he realised that she'd probably be long gone. They'd never get their dance. "How are you so… uh…?" He gestured incomprehensively with his hand as he searched for the right word.

"Young?" Sarah asked, her hands clenching tighter around the railing. "We noticed something was off a few years after you were… gone." She swallowed heavily, the memories flooding back in perfect clarity. "Peg and I were doing all sorts of questionable missions under the S.S.R's radar, risking our bloody necks trying to clear Howard's name and we got hurt. A lot. I'd always healed far quicker than she did and I always just brushed it off, then S.H.I.E.L.D happened and suddenly we were in our late thirties and I didn't look a day over twenty-four."

"You still don't look a day over twenty-four kid."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Peg kept it quiet and Howard helped us do the testing… but it wasn't until Dugan got involved that everything seemed to click together. I refused to believe it until Peg shoved the results from Howard's tests under my nose. He compared samples of our blood and they were identical in everything serum related." She nudged his shoulder. "I'm just as super as you."

Steve's stomach dropped. " _I did this._ " He whispered. His hands shook as he clutched the railing so tightly that the smooth wood warped beneath his fingertips. "I did this to you."

The bustle of the Brooklyn Bridge faded behind him, the warm air turning frosty as he found himself far from the safety of Manhattan, and back in the snow covered forests of Germany. The sound of a gunshot followed by a muted cry had the blood rushing to his ears, drowning out the sound of Bucky's return fire, the HYDRA sniper dead before he even hit the ground. Steve's vision tunnelled as he turned, the sight of Sarah's blood staining the white snow crimson making his heart clench.

The light hand on his arm brought him back to the present, the baby blue eyes of his sister reminding him that she hadn't died in Germany.

"We barely saved you. The transfusion almost didn't work and we couldn't get you back to base for the Medics to save you themselves. Buck, he-" Steve shook his head, remembering the way Bucky had reacted to the sight of Sarah on the ground. "He was frantic, almost broke my nose before he made me promise to never let you come on another mission with us."

Sarah smiled, though her heart ached at the mere mention of Bucky. "I should have known."

"He meant well."

"He was being an overprotective ass." Sarah retorted.

Steve gave her a wonky half smile. "He loved you."

She shut her eyes, the memories washing over her doing nothing to ease her troubled soul. The fine gold necklace that hung around her neck suddenly felt like carried the weight of the world. "I know."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Well, that's the beginning of something I'm not sure I'll ever finish... but I hoped you enjoyed the beginning of the ride.


End file.
